


Falling Inside The Black

by insanechayne



Category: House of Leaves - Mark Z. Danielewski
Genre: Gen, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanechayne/pseuds/insanechayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Tom thinks about/what happens to Tom after he gets swallowed by the house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Inside The Black

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this for a while now, so now I have.  
> Finally some good House of Leaves fanfic will be up on this site.  
> I wasn't sure of the age gap between the brothers, so I just left Tom's age open when Navy's was mentioned during a memory scene Tom was having.  
> I also thought it would be more fitting for Tom's character if he simply kept calling his brother by the nickname, Navy, rather than Will. I felt like Tom would find Will too formal, even in the final moments of his life.  
> Enjoy.

Swallowed. That’s what Tom had been. Swallowed, enveloped, captured by the dark emptiness that now surrounded him. It had all happened so fast, too, almost like a blur. One minute he was reaching out to his big brother, Navy, the same big brother who always promised to protect him no matter what happened, and then next he was watching the house his brother owned diminish right before his eyes as the floor closed him into the darkness. Tom was confused by this turn of events, and he thought that any second he ought to wake up from some drunken stupor or pot nightmare, but he couldn’t wake up because he wasn’t asleep.

How long had he been falling then? Seconds, minutes, hours? Who knew. He wasn’t wearing a watch, and even if he had been he wouldn’t be able to read it; it was too dark in this place he was in now. 

This darkness was the perfect black that you often hear being used to describe the bottom of the ocean, or deep space. The kind of darkness that made you imagine foreign shapes and creatures lurking in it, and you swore you could see them coming at you, or in Tom’s case doors and stairs floating by. It was the kind of darkness that made you hallucinate, the kind of darkness you just couldn’t accept as real. 

The air that wooshed around him was cold, too. He wished he had a jacket, sweater, or even a long sleeved shirt to make his fall more comfortable, but all he had was his boring gray t-shirt and faded blue jeans; at least he was wearing shoes. At first the cold air made his broken fingers ache and throb, but after a while the temperature numbed them, and now he couldn’t even feel them; he couldn’t say he minded that, since he was sure to die in here, anyway, and he’d rather not suffer more than he already had to. 

How long would he fall, he wondered, before he hit the bottom? Was there even a bottom to this place? Perhaps it was a circle, and he would fall into eternity in this black ring, dying from starvation or dehydration or even hypothermia rather than hitting a floor at the speed he was surely traveling. He supposed he wouldn’t mind that too much, either, because then at least he would be able to feel himself slipping away rather than being suddenly thumped against the ground, every bone in his body broken, an instant, surprising death. If he could feel his body giving out on him he would have more time to reflect on his life, make the proper amends in his life, and maybe even get right with God. 

Tom believed in God now. He hadn’t before; how could there be a God when there was so much disease, war, and pain in the world? What kind of Lord would allow that to happen to his children? But now he was sure that there was a God, and what’s more He allowed those things to happen as lessons to the innocent lambs. The good children could never learn a lesson if they didn’t see it first-hand, right? It was like burning yourself accidentally on a hot stove when you were a small child. You didn’t understand the concept of heat and burning and pain, not really. Sure, you scraped your knees or fell, and you thought that was pain, but it was so minimal compared to a burn, compared to true pain. If you touched that stove while the fire was on and burned yourself, you would know real agony, and you would learn never to touch a stove while the burner raged again. If you weren’t lucky enough to just suffer a blister or two and the horribly pink inflammation of seared skin, the scar that remained permanently on your body would certainly remind you for the rest of your life never to make such a stupid mistake twice. 

Of course there was a God, Tom mused as he floated in the open space. Who else but God could have created a place such as this? He created it as a warning: do not enter, though this place may be tempting, for ye shall surely die in here. Just like in the Garden of Eden, with the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. God knew the temptation such a tree would cause, but He put it in the Garden anyway; it was a test to His subjects, to show whether or not they would truly follow His commands. When they didn’t, they were punished. This damn labyrinth was the same thing, in a funny sort of way. The realization hit Tom like a punch in the face, and suddenly he couldn’t stop laughing, the cold air filling his throat and lungs painfully. God put this hole here, this horrible, un-ending, maze of darkness, as a test to the human race. ‘I’m going to put this here, but if you go inside you will suffer dire consequences’, He had probably thought as He swirled it into reality. Going inside of this place went against every instinct in the human body, and against every thought of common sense in the brain. It was dark, it was cold, it was frightening, there was no echo, no life, no sounds, save the never ending growling, and no way out once you were trapped inside. But did the bad little children listen to their instincts, or care about their self-preservation? Not in the least. They threw caution to the wind and went inside anyway, and then some of them suffered because of it.

Tom couldn’t even claim to be innocent here. He had never wanted to go into this terrifying place, but he did anyway, because his big brother wanted, no, needed, him to. He was just as tainted as the rest of them, because he had disobeyed God’s obvious command to stay away and had entered anyway, and now he was paying the dearest price for it. Part of him didn’t really care anymore. Part of him just wanted this fall to be over with. 

As he fell his life flashed behind his eyelids. So it was true what they said about your life before your eyes before death; Tom just didn’t think it would be so drawn out. Maybe it was because he had more time than most people to reflect on his life than others did before they died. 

Tom could see every memory in perfect clarity, as if he were re-living them right that very moment. The brightness of his memories even took over the darkness of the labyrinth, for a time, a mercy he was grateful for. 

Here, once again, was Navy, but he was just a child in this vision. Navy wore a small black suit, still a little big for a boy of seven, and his eyes were confused, yet solemn. It was the first funeral the boys had ever been to, for their old Aunt Diane. They had been forced into uncomfortable, dragging suits, and pulled along beside their parents to sit in the pew toward the front of the church. 

Diane had been their father’s sister, and the boys didn’t know much about her other than that she lived alone with a cat named Dixie, and liked to wear a lot of black eye shadow when she came to visit. When their birthdays or Christmas rolled around she gave them lavish presents, like the toy cars they had begun collecting, and pedal-cars that they used to race around the backyard. 

Tom didn’t know what was going on at the time; all he knew then was that his clothes were itchy and the church was too warm for his liking, and he was really hungry, but his parents said they wouldn’t be allowed to eat until after the service. He wanted to complain, make a big fuss that would cause his parents to, finally, give him some food, but because Navy was staying silent he was, too. Navy was older and smarter than Tom, and all Tom wanted was to be like his big brother.

Back in the present, Tom smiled to himself, a tear forming at the corner of his eye. He had always longed to be like Navy, until Navy got better grades, dated cheerleaders, played sports, and eventually went off to the war. Tom knew he could never be his brother, and so he simply gave up that dream and slipped into the shadows of his own life, floating by on nothing more than the will to get through the day; sometimes he didn’t even have that much. 

Tom stretched one arm out to his side, as far as it would go, and imagined he could feel a wall next to him. There was nothing there, of course, except more unexplored emptiness, but Tom wished for a wall there all the same. A wall, or a passing door, or anything that he could actually touch would give him some kind of stability in this odd sort of fantasyland that he was stuck in. 

More time flew by, and still Tom had not hit a bottom of any kind, or felt anything around him, though he kept both of his arms outstretched now. He could feel himself beginning to descend into the beginning stages of madness, and longed for the nip of whiskey, or the sweet smoke from a joint, to keep his nerves steady. It would have been a last treat, a last meal for the dying, and Tom found this thought funny, too, and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks from the paint he cold air caused his throat as it rasped its way into his lungs.

How much longer now would he drift, falling in the black, before death finally consumed him? Tom no longer wanted to feel his body slowly dying as he slipped away, he wanted to die quickly and end this never ending floating to nowhere. To tell the truth he was bored with the falling, with the thinking, with the memories. But Tom then realized he had never made his heart’s amends, and once more he was grateful for the long fall he was still in. 

Navy, my big brother. I’m sorry that I never really supported you in anything you did, or at least I never told you that I supported you. I was so happy when you married Karen, because I knew you would be happy with her forever. I kept a picture of you two in my wallet, and sometimes I would pull it out and look at it just to see your smiling face. I kept a copy of that picture that you won that prize for in my wallet, too. It brought you fame, and modest fortune, and I knew you were so proud of it. I was proud of you for doing what you had always loved. I wish we had talked more after we both grew up and went our separate ways. I should have kept in touch. I should have visited you, and seen your kids more often. There are so many things I should have done. And even though I’m slowly dying right now, I’m kind of glad that you called me into this expedition thing with you. I saw something I’d never seen before, something that made me believe in God, something no one else had ever seen before, I’m sure. I was scared, sure, but I was excited, too, I think, deep down. And if I hadn’t been here, who knows what might have happened to Daisy. I was glad that in my final days I could do something worthwhile. I love you, Navy. Always have and always will. 

A peace Tom had never known flooded through his veins at the end of his internal monologue to his brother, and a smile spread over his face as he closed his eyes once more. The only amends he needed to make were to his brother, and he knew that, somehow, Navy would know what he had just said. Maybe he wouldn’t know all the words, but Navy would know the feelings that accompanied them; perhaps they would give him an odd sense of peace, too. 

Finally, Tom hit the bottom.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Update: Because I have currently started work on my first novel and already have quite a few people supporting me, someone suggested I set up a newsletter about the book.   
> It'd be mostly updates about the writing process, quotes from the book, and in the future updates about publication and when it'll be available for purchase.  
> The newsletter will be a mass email sent out roughly once a week. So if you're interested in being a part of this you can send me an email at chayne43571@gmail.com, where the newsletter will be sent from, or you can message me here or at my tumblr (insanechayne.tumblr.com) with the email address you'd like me to send the letter to.   
> Thank you for your support!


End file.
